Since I left you,
I have not felt anything
at least not for an extended period of time.
Neither great joy nor sadness.
Not even a feeling of loss or emptiness at missing you.
Simply a blank slate,
choked up with facts.
The subconscious consciously lying to the conscious and telling me that in a few months I’ll come back home.
Since there is silence,
nothing is happening, changing, except in minute details—
but absolutely nothing pertaining to the heart.
Nothing of importance.
What can a phone really communicate anyways?
I suppose I thought change happened quickly and painfully, a punctuated equilibrium.
Instead, it is a long,
process of thinking nothing
has changed at all,
until we realize
the random habits
that allowed us to adjust
have actually turned us into an entirely
Though we come from a common ancestor of personal history,
Our DNA no longer calls us brothers.
Our DNA remembers only enough to trace back our kingdom.
Born of the same species, we share not genus, nor even family.
Time has worn us down.
Warn you down.
The only memories that survive
are your words that allowed me to survive myself;
gave me an adaptive advantage.
Those words carry on,
but only as emotionless, half-baked, halfhearted